Ordinary
by TheWriterFromHell
Summary: James Moriarty x Reader It was a relationship in the past, that you hoped would stay there. You are a 29 year old writer who lives in NYC, with your best friend, Amelia. When you decide to take a vacation back to London, the past comes back to haunt you. Will you be able to escape the spider's web? Or will you be tangled in it, albeit blissfully, once again?


_**Ordinary**_

 _ **James Moriarty x Reader**_

 _ **Chapter 1**_

 _ **New York City, New York**_

 _ **August 12th, 2016**_

" **All you have to do is write one sentence.**

" **Write the truest sentence you know."**

 **Ernest Hemingway**

The future is undefined.

That is your one unalienable truth.

It is constantly changing, due to yours, and others, decisions. Taking a left instead of right, saying yes instead of no; it all affects the future in ways that you may never be able to understand. To be honest, you didn't think you wanted to understand.

You were not oblivious, to say, but you were happy with not knowing everything. In your life, you had come across people who desired to know everything, and you were not too impressed.

If you were to ever want to know what happened next, however, it would be now.

Because you had a major writer's block.

Glaring at your laptop's screen, the only source of light in your room, you took another long sip of wine. Was Mary supposed to stay where Jonathan put her? Or should you make her do what any main protagonist would do, and follow him to the gang fight?

Ah, choices.

"Amelia!" you shouted, unwilling to get up, "Amelia!"

Your door was banged open, and she appeared in the doorway with a frying pan, "Yo?"

"I need help." you turned your laptop towards your best friend, "What should Mary do?"

"What would you do?"

"I mean, I would listen. But this isn't me, this is Mary."

"Aren't characters supposed to be a mostly indirect output from an author though?" she tilted her head, and you blinked, "Wow, where'd you hear that from?"

"You. At your last panel." she snorted, turning, "Come on, dinner is ready, and I found another horrible Syfy movie for us to watch."

"But-"

"(y/n), you are a twenty nine year old sitting in your room, drinking wine, and writing a book that will be idolized by teenagers everywhere. Come eat some take out, okay?"

"...Okay."

You managed to kick the blankets off and walked through the apartment.

It was, needless to say, your pride and joy.

After you sold your first book, you had gone searching for a home that would be yours. A house seemed like an obvious choice, but this building in particular you had had your eye on ever since you moved here from London.

So, you bought it.

Amelia, who you had known since childhood, had an unquestionable room. The two of you had painted it, and decorated it, the way you had always dreamed of doing. This was your place, and you were content with it.

The two of you had, as previously mentioned, moved here to the big apple, from London. College here had been calling you for quite some time, so after graduation highschool, you happily accepted the scholarship and moved here to major in English. Amelia followed, searching for a degree that would allow her to further her cooking abilities.

"Here you are," she hummed, handing you the bag, "Let's go. I found one called Zombeavers."

"Ooh, sounds spooky," you giggled, and the two of you sat on the couch, starting in on the take out.

~  
"Hey, (Y/n), before you go back to your cave," she called, throwing away the trash, "I wanted to run something by you."

"Shoot," you hummed, leaning onto the counter.

"Well," she looked nervous, as though determining the best way to approach the subject, "You remember how you said you wanted to a change of scenery? What if we were to take a vacation?"

"Sure," you shrugged, smiling, "Cancun? How about somewhere in Mexico? I'm really good with anywhere."

"Anywhere?" she smiled, "Even… London?"

"... You want to take a vacation… back home?"

"Yes," she looked satisfied, "I miss it; and who knows, maybe getting you back to your roots will help you write."

"I-" You frowned, "I have to think about it."

"Well, you have about," she looked at the clock, "Four hours."

"...You already bought the tickets, didn't you?"

"And I booked and paid for the hotel." she nodded, a smirk on her face, "I didn't want to give you time to back out. So you better get packing."


End file.
